Withering Hope
by X-InquisitiveDreams-X
Summary: Your way out is hard to digest. Kill Arthur.
1. Horrific Awakening

The first thing Alfred could remember after blinking his eyes open to flickering florescent lights above was that Arthur had been taken. Immediately, he sat up, but reeled back in shock and gripped his head achingly. He pulled his hand away to find that his glove was coated with a thick layer of originally undetected blood. Suddenly pain throbbed through his body so much he could feel each heartbeat and winced every time his heart pumped blood through his veins. Then he started to become more aware of his surroundings and began to panic.

The walls were white, but something mysterious had dripped down along the layers of grime and dust that were caked on. The same was for the floor and ceiling, only more so for the ground. The room was completely empty, save a small black box, a strange looking clock on the wall, himself, and a small figure huddled in the corner of the room across from him.

Arthur.

Alfred almost screamed and laughed in joy that he wasn't alone, then nearly started crying in fear for Arthur, then just about kicked the wall in anger that they had been kidnapped.

Thoughts racing, he reached into his pocket, hoping to find that the kidnapper had been stupid enough to leave his cell phone there, but found something a little more interesting instead.

An envelope addressed to himself.

He tore it open carefully, as if he were afraid that something might explode in his face if he moved too quickly. What he found, though, was a tape and a small piece of paper with writing typed on it. It read:

_Your way out is hard to digest. _

_Kill Arthur. _

His eyes widened and his hand found its way to cover his gaping, gasping mouth. His heartbeat tripled its pace, creating more pain. Not that he cared. He had just been told to kill someone he cared deeply about, who he was staring at in fear. What were they going to do...?

Then another anguishing thought appeared in the back of his mind that made him audibly squeak -- which is _not_ something a hero would do -- that maybe Arthur was already dead.

"A-Arthur...? Arthur?" He whispered, due to lack of use of his voice. "Arthur?!" He spoke louder. "GODDAMNIT ARTHUR! DON'T BE DEAD...!" He screamed, tears filling his eyes.

Then Arthur groaned and rolled over so Alfred could see his face. "Wh-what the bloody hell do you want...?" Arthur moaned in his heavy British accent.

"Arthur…!" Alfred sighed in relief as the Brit began to adjust himself.

"W-Where exactly are we?" Arthur inquired fearfully. "I'm not drunk, am I?" His widened green eyes pierced the American across from him, questioning.

"I don't think so…" Alfred murmured, choosing the easiest question to answer. He thought that Arthur had given up drinking… _I should know better than to assume _that_ much… _He frowned thoughtfully.

"…Alfred…" Arthur's voice raised and shook as he noticed his surroundings. "What the bloody hell is this…?" He lifted up the lengthy rusted chain that connected his neck to the soiled wall.

"Arthur," Alfred ignored the Brit's question. "L-Look in your pockets. Give me whatever you find."

Arthur got a little defensive at this. "Why should I? What if I want to see it myself? It's _my_ bloody pocket anyway!" He shoved his hands into his pockets, searching for whatever he thought Alfred might want (which, in a normal situation, he would have assumed it was just some coupon to McDonald's or something similar, and would have given it to him, not really caring, but this is _not_ a normal situation, therefore, he was a tad bit tense). Arthur then pulled out a white envelope, just the same as Alfred's, only with his name on it. Arthur, in his gentlemanly ways, carefully tore the flap to the envelope and pulled out a white tape just like Alfred's.

"Give me that," Alfred demanded frantically.

"No! You have no right to it and it was for me," He declared smugly. "Hey, do you know what's in here?" He asked Alfred, referring to the black box between them.

"No idea," Alfred replied, barely paying the Brit any attention as the American studied his own chains. His legs and neck were chained to a wall, the same place Arthur's were. He noticed that Arthur also had his neck restrained, but not his legs. _This isn't fair…!_ Alfred pouted in his thoughts. _Arthur's not tied up as much as I am, and I _still_ have to be the hero! _His lips puckered into an uncharacteristic frown. He observed that there was a suspiciously ominous blade on his side of where their chains connected.

Alfred was thinking deeply on why this was when Arthur interrupted, "Oi, Alfred. Look at this." It seemed that the Brit had opened the black box to find that there was a tape recorder and another envelope to Alfred. The first thing Arthur did afterward was push his tape into the recorder and press the play button hesitantly. "_Hello, Arthur. I'd like to play a game."_ a gravely, emotionless voice sent shivers down the blondes' backs. _"Ever since July forth, 1776, you've been lost in a deep, hidden depression. You drink to make the loneliness and pain go away, though it never does much. You've never told anyone this, not even the person you care about most, who is sitting in the room with you. Now's your chance to tell him how you feel -- before he kills you. The key to set yourself free is somewhere in time. Live or die. Make your choice." _

Arthur just stared at Alfred in shock. "Y-You're going to bloody _kill me_?!" Alfred was too terrified to say anything. He just held out his hand for Arthur to give him the cassette player. He shoved the tape in and heard the same eerie voice that was on Arthur's. "_Hello, Alfred. Let's play a game._"

"Let's not," Alfred shuddered.

"_You live in a world where you are always the hero, but you hardly have enough courage to watch a scary movie to the end. You live off of hamburgers, soda, and coffee. You're so terrible at reading people's expressions and the situations going on around you, you didn't even notice the way Arthur looks at you and how he talks to you. Now you might be minutes away from your own personal destruction. Your way out of here is in Arthur. I believe you have something of equal importance to him, Alfred. But I wouldn't anger him if I were you -- that blade can kill you faster than you think when Arthur's in control -- as he is now. Just by pulling on the chain hard enough, he can divide your head from your body quite easily if he wanted to. You have forty-five minutes to get out before a deadly gas fills your body. Live or die. Make your choice." _At the end of the voice's sinister speech, the room was wholly consumed with an ominously deafening silence.

* * *

First try at serious fanfiction/crossover. Sorry for ooc-ness, I just kinda figured they'd be a bit more serious in a life-or-death situation. ^_^ Please review!!


	2. Forever Dreaming

Arthur broke the silence, "Well, whoever put us here knows a lot about us…" His thoughts and heart were racing. "He's probably aware that we're countries too…" Alfred just stared at him, shocked.

"How can you just be sitting there? Did you hear what he said? Either I die, you die, or we both die. And we have to kill _each other_…" At the last two words he gripped his head and his sight got fuzzy from painful tears. "I don't want to have to kill you, Iggy!"

Arthur scoffed. "You think I'm going to let you kill me? He said I was in control! I could very well just pull on my chain…" He tugged on the chain connected to his neck, making Alfred go flying toward the glittering blade, stopping just before his neck was cut. "…And you would be dead." Arthur glared at him before releasing the chain and letting the American drop to the ground with a loud grunt. Alfred stared in fear at the other man while Arthur analyzed the thing that connected their chains.

"…What do we do then…?" Alfred murmured.

"Find a way out of here, bloody git. Are you really stupid enough to think that I'm going to just sit here and rot? No. There has to be a way out of here…" He replied, never looking up. Arthur couldn't help but notice that Alfred was doing exact opposite of what he had blamed Arthur of doing before and continued to think that Alfred was the daftest man he knew.

"Thirty minutes left…" Alfred observed the clock emotionlessly.

"_Damn_!" Arthur exclaimed, slamming his fist into the wall. He wasn't going to give up, but this was so _frustrating_. Then he though back to what his tape said. _The key to set yourself free is somewhere in time… _What the bloody hell did that mean?

As Arthur dug through his mind to find his 'key', Alfred was spacing out, lost in memories he knew very well, most of which included Arthur. He glanced up at the clock. It read 4:16. He wondered if it were A.M. or P.M. Not that it mattered, he was going to die soon anyway. Then he looked at the clock more carefully. It was an odd clock, with a second hand that didn't tick, but just inched around the circumference of the clock over and over and over. It was colored red and black with confusing pinstripes that made it hard to see the little roman numerals marking the time. Something about the clock was just strange.

"Hey, Iggy," Alfred began. "Doesn't that clock look weird? I mean, the colors and everything--"

"The clock!" Arthur yelled excitedly. "Somewhere in time! I found it!" He stared at the clock. He'd found what he needed to get out, but how DID he get out?

"Y-You found the way out…?" Alfred stared in shock at Arthur. Alfred _was_ going to die today…

The excited Brit started to march his way toward the eccentric clock and Alfred was dragged toward the glittering blade once again. He started to resist and tried to pull his chain away from his doom, but found it impossible. "Arthur…" Alfred's voice quiver in horror as his neck began to reach the edge "…Arthur…! STOP, ARTHUR!" He yelled as Arthur glanced back and saw that the blade had started to cut into the American's skin, small drops of crimson blood dripping down his neck and soaking into his shirt. "…Ar…th-thur…" He gasped, grasping his neck shackle in pain. Arthur scurried to Alfred's side to give him relief and air. The Brit dabbed away at the cut carefully with his sleeve.

"I suppose it would be wrong to ask if you were okay…" Arthur sniffed. He felt it was his fault for Alfred's pain, caused by his own foolish selfishness. Alfred chucked, or something close to it. "I'm sorry…" Arthur cried. "I'm sorry for everything… for just now, for not offering the freedom you needed, for calling you names, for completely _lying_ to you by telling you that I hate you…" Tears dripped off his chin. "Please forgive me!" He wrapped his arms around the American's torso and put his forehead to the crook of Alfred's neck, tears pouring out of his eyes.

"God, Iggy…" Alfred's cracked voice sighed as he reached around Arthur's sobbing shoulders, holding the Brit closer to him. "What was that all of a sudden?" He gave a sad smile. Arthur just looked up and stared into his beautiful bright blue eyes longingly, then pulled Alfred's shirt to him, lips crashing. Tongues met, hair was ruffled, breaths came out in huffs.

"Maybe clothes should come off…?" Alfred breathed.

"Maybe they should…" Arthur agreed. Alfred began pulling off Arthur's shirt.

And he screamed.

He tore the Brit's shirt off over his head.

There was a huge stitched up gash on his right side.

_Where his intestines were. _

There was a question mark over the incision, dotted with a heart. Alfred felt tears leak out of his eyes.

He knew how to get out alive now.

"Wh-What…?" Arthur inquired in wary fear. Then he looked to where Alfred was staring. His emerald eyes grew wide as he clasped his side in dread. He sensed an icy chill of apprehension crawl through his veins like a plague. He felt himself excessively hyperventilating, cold sweats and goosebumps rippling over his pale skin.

Then he let out an ear piercing yell in a stressed panic.

Alfred backed up. _Your way out is hard to digest… Your way out of here is in Arthur… _Why was he so stupid? Why didn't he see the signs before? He put his head in his hands, regretting everything, even living. He'd never wanted this.

Then he realized what he'd wanted the whole time. He glanced over at the British man who was curled into a sobbing ball across from him.

"Arthur…" He croaked. "I don't care about getting out of here as long as the last moments I spend are with you. That probably sounded cheesy and stupid, but I mean it. If we're both going to die anyway…" his voice hitched in his sore throat. Arthur turned and crawled toward Alfred with a yearning expression uncharacteristically heavy on his face, his eyes still dripping tears. He cupped Alfred's face in his hands, normally dull eyes sparkling, and leaned toward him until their lips met once again in a desperate need to feel each other's presence and to show what they both need. Alfred pushed farther into the kiss and forced his tongue in gently. Arthur welcomed him gladly. Their tongues danced in their mouths fiercely until they had to come up for air with both chests heaving. Arthur coughed a little and wiped his mouth off on his sleeve, and shot a depressed glance at Alfred.

"It… It started…" He murmured casting a hopeless glance at his sleeve which had spots of blood splattered on the cuff.

"Shit…" Alfred whispered, turning away with a sad smile. "So now we wait to die." He felt tears blur his vision of the man across from him. The man he loved, the man who taught him everything he knew, the man who was going to die with him.

"I… suppose we do." Arthur agreed blandly, hesitantly accepting his fate unwillingly. They stared at each other with glassy eyes and withering hope, wishing they had some kind of fate to cling onto, but knew there was no way out of this completely alive. One must die for the other to live, but that meant the other was to die on the inside without the them. If they were to die together, at least they would be _together_. Salty tears mixed with blood dripped off their cheeks in fear for the other and themselves. They knew that in truth, there was no way out to begin with. They wouldn't have been able to kill the other in the first place. They were aware of death slowly creeping up on them, the freezing temperatures dropping even further as time continued slowly, the clock past the forty-five mark, their lives draining of life with each moment, each minute. They couldn't stop thinking about how they should have done something earlier, should have said something, should have _lived_ more. They didn't notice themselves slowly moving closer to each other in a need for comfort and some kind of thread of hope in this dire situation. They reached out for each other unknowingly and fell into the other's shivering embrace. They shuddered as poisoned blood was expelled from their body. They didn't realize when their bodies met the cold ground and their long, heavy silence was broken when emerald eyes met sky blue.

Arthur spoke first, knowing this was there last few moments. "…I wish I could have told Francis that he wouldn't be that bad if he would just stop raping people all the time." He gave a small chuckle. "But then he wouldn't be Francis, would he?"

"I wish I could've told Mathew that if he just spoke up a little, people would remember him more often." Alfred sighed.

"I wish I could have told Ivan that if he would've just stopped trying to become one with everyone no one would be scared of him…" Arthur gave a small shake. "Even me." He coughed more, then vomited blood all over the wall he had previously lied against.

"Are you okay, Iggy?" Alfred asked, although the answer was more than clear by this point.

"Yeah, I'm great." Arthur's voice still sounded slightly sarcastic, even as his death grew nearer with every second. Alfred inwardly laughed at his tone, feeling strangely okay for the moment, though he knew it wouldn't last. Not sure if every breath would be Arthur's last, Alfred reached over and gripped the Brit's hand tightly, not wanting to let go for the rest of his short life. He cupped the Brit's despairing face in his shivering hands.

"I'm not sure if I ever told you this, but I want you to know now, while we can still speak." He swallowed a breath full of air and licked his chapping lips. "I love you. I always have. I don't care what that freaky man said, I do. And, to spend the rest of my life with you…" He turned away with a melancholic grin. "It's almost a blessing."

"Alfred…" Arthur moaned, before turning away to let a mouthful of blood splutter off his lips. "I don't have much longer…" He whispered between gasps. "But you should understand that I feel the exact same way about you…" A gentle smile tugged his face upward and his eyes closed for the last time, eternally ceasing Arthur's pain as he exhaled his final anguished breath. "…I love you…" The Brit mouthed before Alfred felt his body go limp and cold, all lingering life force leaving him in a singular devastating moment that seemed to stretch on for decades for the grieving American, who saw his world obscure with agonizing tears as he cried out for Arthur in some feeble attempt to reawaken him; however, he knew it was impossible. He knew it was too late, and he would soon be going, too. Alfred shifted his weight and felt a soft prick where his right back pocket was in his worn jeans. He hesitantly pulled out whatever had been cutting him.

It was an open pocket knife. Alfred realized what perfect timing it was, having Arthur previously died. He could escape.

But then he considered what he would have to do, and found that completely impossible for him to manage. He hurled the knife to the wall as it landed with a metallic clatter and ignored the world, gripping onto Arthur's body until it was his time to go, which wasn't very long after. Alfred coughed up much blood, being sure to turn away from the Brit's remains as to not soil his corpse. The American waited for what felt like hours, but was only a few minutes when he knew that the end was very near. He began to close his eyes, aware that he gave up the chance to live on. As his existence began to fade, he couldn't help but think that he didn't mind giving up his life to be with Arthur, glad to have finally told him exactly how he felt.

His heart discontinued. His mind went blank.

Then there was nothing.

* * *

Well... I'M SORRY. TT_______TT This took SO LONG to get on FF!!! I'M SORRY!! +Gives blackened scone+ ...This will make it better, yes?? Cx

And, as for the story itself, I cried. Pretty hard, really. T^T I have NO IDEA how I came up with this... But it made me depressed... DX I think it could have been better, but I tried!! OTL;;

Reveiws, please~ ^^ I will give you mutant gummy bears~ xP


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